


The Friend and the Flower

by Panultimate



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Gen, Middle School, Nonbinary Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 14:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5788123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panultimate/pseuds/Panultimate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of the kids liked Chara, and some boasted that Chara liked them back. Some teachers tried to reach out to the troubled child, with varying results. But no one, except perhaps Dr. Alphys, could claim to be Chara's friend.</p><p>That one, Frisk decided. That's the one I want to be friends with.</p><p>----</p><p>Modern day middle school AU featuring two troubled children. \</p><p>== </p><p>Abandoned</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sammykh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammykh/gifts).



Frisk was the new kid. Frisk was always the new kid. They were good at it by now. They smiled and shook hands and remembered everyone's name, and went to sit in the corner, nearest the window. It was a small school, and a new student from out of town drew interest from a variety of children. They pulled Frisk aside in the hall, cornered them after class, volunteered to be their partner. Everyone wanted to be Frisk's friend at first, and that was Frisk's favorite part of being the new kid. Eventually, most of the kids would lose interest, and Frisk would be left with a few friends and an acquaintanceship with everyone in the school.

So, after the first couple of weeks, sitting at a different lunch table every few days, people wandered away and Frisk had choices. It was eighth grade and most of these children had grown up together, gone to school together for three or eight years. 

Chara had a lot of acquaintances and no friends. Chara didn't talk a lot, but everyone wanted to be on their team in gym, because they were fierce and talented. They had a short temper and an impressive history for in school suspensions, but they were fun to play kickball with at lunch. Chara had been a new kid once too, Frisk learned. They had come in the beginning of seventh grade, a foster kid, and there were rumors about why they kept moving foster homes. The most prevalent one was that Chara had burned the last one down, but half the people who spread that one didn't believe it themselves. 

Chara ate their lunch with the nurse before they went to play kickball, and half of the time, they skipped classes to hang out in the office with Dr. Alphys, who always wrote them an excused absence note. Some of the kids liked Chara, and some boasted that Chara liked them back. Some teachers tried to reach out to the troubled child, with varying results. But no one, except perhaps Dr. Alphys, could claim to be Chara's friend.

That one, Frisk decided. That's the one I want to be friends with.

Chara wasn't remotely interested in Frisk. During the first week in the class they shared, Social Studies, Frisk overheard one of the other kids ask Chara, in a carrying whisper, what they thought of the new kid. Chara shrugged. “I like their sweater, I guess.”

Frisk smiled to themselves, and continued to stare out the window and pretend not to listen, but there was nothing more to hear. They approached Chara near the end of lunch a couple of times, but Chara was always doing something, fighting someone or running somewhere or deeply involved in a group activity, and never for a moment could Frisk catch them. Frisk would have tried to be partners with them in their shared class, but one of the social kids snatched Frisk up first, and Frisk smiled and couldn't say no. Chara paired with a sleepy boy who never took off his hood, and their project, when presented to the class, was clearly a hasty last minute effort in the library. 

Frisk was a straight B student, with the occasional A and C. Teachers liked them because they were friendly and had good work ethic, even if their work was never anything extraordinary. Frisk drew in class when they could get away with it. Mr. Smith let Frisk draw in class because Frisk was a good student, and let Chara sleep in class because otherwise Chara might cause trouble.

“That's a cute talking flower,” he said as he passed by Frisk's desk one day.

Frisk laughed nervously and shut the book. Mr. Smith gave them a wink, probably assuming Frisk was worried about getting in trouble. 

Chara leaned forward from the seat behind them and prodded Frisk in the back with their pencil. “You draw talking flowers?”

“Uh, it's...” Frisk hastily stammered. “It's for an anime.”

“What anime?” They asked, and Frisk remembered that was a bad lie, since Chara probably knew all about anime from Dr. Alphys.

“Uh. My own. I made up my own.”

“Really? About talking flowers?” 

Frisk couldn't tell if Chara was being derisive or genuinely interested, but this was the first time Chara had paid them any sort of attention. If only it could have been about something else. 

“Lemme see,” Chara demanded.

“No,” Frisk said, more firmly than was necessary.

Chara looked annoyed and suspicious for a second, then shrugged, their face returning to boredom, and they leaned back in their chair. “Okay.”

“I could draw you something else,” Frisk offered, trying to regain their attention. “Just not the flower. It's dumb. I draw way cooler stuff usually.”

“Whatever,” Chara said. “I don't care what you draw. It's not like there's anything better to do,” they scoffed.

Mr. Smith was trying to get the class's attention. Frisk liked him, though admittedly his class was painfully boring, but they didn't want to hurt his feelings so they reluctantly turned to the front and pretended to care about the location of Mesopotamia. 

They started a fresh sketch page for Chara. They drew a few cool monsters that seemed appropriately aggressive for Chara's taste, but in their own simplistic and cute style. They wrote Chara's name in graffiti letters at the top and signed it at the bottom. Frisk folded it up and turned it over in their sweater pocket, considering for the last ten minutes of class. As soon as the bell rang, they packed up, slapped the little square of paper on Chara's desk, and fled the room before Chara had a chance to give it back. 

Frisk didn’t try to find Chara at lunch. They decided to give Chara space, and Frisk needed their own space for that matter. They walked around the track, alone, and pretended to be listening to music. 

Doubt lurked at the edges of their mind, nagging, like a cruel little whisper that Frisk couldn’t quite make out the words of, but understood its meaning perfectly well.

“Shut up, Flowey,” Frisk muttered. “Mr. Smith thinks you’re cute. Just shut up. Cute, harmless little flower,” they sang softly. “I’m not listening to you, not today.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey, thanks for the art,” Chara mumbled when Frisk came to sit down in Social Studies the next day.

“Oh, I’m glad you liked it.” 

“Can I see the flower?"

Frisk hesitated, then shook their head.

"I already did."

"What?"

"I already saw him over your shoulder. I just wanna look again."

"It's private," Frisk mumbled.

“Oh, okay.”

They had to work with partners for a project later that week, and Frisk snatched Chara up before the teacher was even finished talking, turning around and agreeing with eye contact and short hand signals. Frisk beamed at Chara, who half smiled and looked away. Frisk suggested they exchange phone numbers “just in case,” though none of the other pairs were doing that, since the teacher had said it would all be in class. Chara didn’t comment though. 

“Can’t text,” Chara said. “Just calls.” 

“That’s fine; it’s my house phone,” Frisk said. “My mom says I can get a cell phone when I get into high school. What kind of phone do you have?”

Chara pulled it out of their pencil pouch and showed Frisk the cheap, simple model. Frisk looked anxiously around to see if anyone caught Chara with it out- cell phones were supposed to be in lockers during the day! But Chara put it away casually and Frisk realized that a tut tut for having a phone out was, to Chara, probably not even worth noting. 

They finished their project without difficulty. Frisk was surprised by the amount of effort Chara put in, having expected to have to do most of the work themself. They didn’t talk much in class, but Frisk considered Project Friendship well underway, and didn’t press Chara to socialize more than was normal for them.

The first time Chara called them was a week later, at seven in the morning.

"Frisk? It's for you!"

Frisk ran out into the kitchen, with one sock on and the other in hand, and grabbed the phone from their mom. "Hullo?"

"Hi, it's Chara." Chara sounded different on the phone, squeakier.

"Chara? Wow hi. You never called before. What's up?"

"Are you okay? Your bus came to school without you."

"What?" Frisk hurried back into their room and closed the door.

"You usually ride 293 and everyone just got off and you weren’t on it."

"Oh. Uh, yeah that makes sense, haha. I’m getting a ride today."

"Oh, okay. Just checking. See you at school."

Chara hung up first and Frisk sat on the floor to put their sock on. They couldn’t remember ever seeing Chara in the morning when they got off the bus. That was odd.

Frisk sighed and went back to trying to decide which shirt to wear, doing their best to ignore the nagging doubts, the rumors they’d heard of Chara’s violence. Had anybody ever said anything about stalking? 

They decided just to wear the same shirt as yesterday and cover it up with their favorite sweater, the one with blue and purple stripes. 

Shouldn’t go to school, should stay home and hide.

The thought startled Frisk. They were unusually clear this morning. Usually they just blended in with the rest of Frisk’s thoughts, but today some of them were almost like their own dialogue. Frisk hastily muttered, “Shut up, Flowey,” like a prayer, and pulled the sweater on, looking around for shoes. They had already missed the bus, but they had to go to school. They couldn’t stay home and worry, Chara was waiting for them.

Chara’s waiting.

“I’m going to school,” Frisk declared. “And if I get murdered, at least I’ll have had perfect attendance for this school.”


End file.
